


Star Wars: The Heir to Darkness

by Rykeral



Series: Star Wars: The Darkness Trilogy [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Aliens, Clone Troopers - Freeform, F/F, Jedi, Rebels, Sith, Sith Empire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 02:11:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12877974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rykeral/pseuds/Rykeral
Summary: Supergirl/Star Wars AU"What is the Sith Code, Lena?" Darth Thorul demanded. Lena panted, teeth bared against the echoes of pain as her brother finally lowered his palm. She rasped a response and Lex tilted his head gently to the side as he appraised her, and she felt...naked....  with her soul bare for him to see even as she tried to shield it."Your....affection... for the Jedi is binding you. Making you weak." A silent snarl split her lips in protest but she had long learnt the consequences of insolence with her Master, even if he were her brother. He had already articulated his duty to her as her Master, and had spent unfathomable time reinforcing her training until her body trembled and the Force roared, rampant and raw, beneath her skin, desperate to be let out."She makes you weak, my Apprentice," he cooed silkily.  He lifted his hand and lightning connected the two of them, his palm to her chest, and her body arched in agony, muscles going rigid."You know what you must do," he told her as her screams faded.Lena grit her teeth and lifted her eyes to his. "I must kill the Jedi Kara Danvers."





	Star Wars: The Heir to Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> For the moment this fic is unfinished- this first chapter is a gift to start December and this part of the note will be removed when I come to update the rest of the fic. I don't know when that will be but it will eventually happen. Just not for a while yet.
> 
> That being said welcome to my foray into the SWU! 
> 
> This is a Supergirl fic set within the StarWars universe. My familiarity with the SWU is set around a few viewings of the movies, so this is not a SW FanFic. It is a SG fanfic so keep that in mind if you do decide to attack me on the many inaccuracies you will likely come across. Any research attempted has been helped by Wookiepedia and the internet but as the SWU is so massive I've taken pieces from all over and then added my own flare.
> 
> I plan to have the series a trilogy and have each plot line for the episodes (I, II, III) and some of the plotline will be familiar, others I hope to surprise :D

Prologue:

_A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away….._

_STAR WARS_

_Episode I_

_The Heir to Darkness_

_Following the death of the Grand Chancellor Lillian Luthor, her son Lex, assumed control of the Senate. With the unrest following his mothers murder the young man, with full approval of the senate, proclaimed the Galactic Republic could only achieve its goals; of galactic peace, trade, and prosperity, by becoming an Empire. The newly named Emperor immediately approved executive Order 999; authorising the mobilisation of the Empire’s forces._

_The Jedi Order, unwilling to comply with the Empire’s laws and regulations, and perhaps seeing the Emperor for the Sith Lord he was, refused to kneel and fall under its sphere of influence. They were branded traitors of peace, and Order 66 was executed with majority support from the galaxy. Four years later the Empire controls much of the galaxy with only a small coalition of planets forming a terrorist group known as the Rebel Alliance allied with the Jedi that survived the execution order._

_Having carried on his mothers work of systematically slaughtering the other Sith Lord’s, Sith Thorul now seeks a holocron containing the memories and wisdom of the famed Sith Lord, Darth Seid. Darth Thorul believes it contains a ritual that will enable him to steal the force power of other users and keep it for himself. He has sent his Apprentice, his sister Lena, to the planet D’rangr in order to retrieve it. With it in his hands the entire Galaxy will kneel to him…_

 

Part One:

 

The thud of approaching boots came to a halt and there was a moments pause as the wearer straightened and rapped sharply on the door.

“Ambassador? We will be landing on D’rangr shortly. Have you any further instructions?”

The creature was tall, not as tall as the door, but close to it and had red skin with horns around its crown and black markings on its head. The pale irises caught the light above the door as it went from clear to green, announcing with a small light that the door was about to open.

The vacuum seals on the door hissed as it was opened and the woman inside rose to her feet, lowering her hand.

She was human; pale and small, with long dark hair and sharp green eyes but as she straightened she seemed to fill the room with her very presence. She was wearing colour beneath her black robe, unlike the subservient near-human being at the door that wore only black. She had dark brown pants over black boots and was wearing a dark blue open sleeveless shirt over a black long sleeve shirt.

“No. I shouldn’t be long, Jesskra,” she commented as she prowled forward, voice belaying a hint of an accent, but it was hard to trace. Jesskra offered her a folded black cloak and a pouch of credits. She accepted the cloak and placed it over her shoulders in a graceful motion and pocketed the credit pouch.

“By your command.”

The ship they were using shuddered and jerked as they hit air pockets on their decent and the woman placed a hand on the wall to steady herself.

The short curse that hissed from between the Ambassador’s lips made the servant bare her teeth but she offered no comment as the ship stabilised.

“I shall be glad to leave this planet,” the human snarled as she braced herself and continued to walk through the corridor.

Jesskra nodded her head. “D’rangr is a fitting hiding place for a filth-sack like D’vo Hegvlar,” the Dathomirian Zabrak agreed.

The woman grunted in acknowledgement of the comment. “He’ll stand out as much as the Clone-Troopers do to the locals.”

“Easier to find,” Jesskra shrugged.

“We shall see,” the woman commented and led them through the ship to its belly where the cargo hold was. A squad of Clone-troopers were already awaiting her and they immediately stood to attention.

The gleaming white of their armour stood out against the bent silvers and slightly rusted tint to the metal around them and she made a mental note to have maintenance go over the ship.

“Ambassador!” The Clone-trooper in command clasped a fist to his breastplate while the others remained in position, paying no mind to how the ship strained around them as they came in to land.

“Captain,” the woman spoke. “I trust you and your men are ready.” It was not a question, but the commander answered it swiftly and respectfully.

“Yes, Ambassador! We have been fully briefed for the smuggler we are looking for and will apprehend him on sight.”

“Good.” The woman turned to her servant.

“I want us ready to leave the moment we return.”

Jesskra bowed her head, in submission or fear, either was acceptable. “By your command.”

A series of lights flashed above the door and she turned to face it, waiting as the ships captain went through the checks before he would be permitted to open the door.

She took a moment to appraise her warped reflection in the dented metal of the door.

Lex had told her once, before he had killed Lillian, that her eyes were like the Korriban moons of old, a startling shade of green, grey or blue, depending on her mood. She hadn’t given it much of a thought, only knew that when she stared at those who had displeased her they often though her eyes were the shadow of a blaster bolt; cold. Death.

She’d taken the opportunity to let her hair down and it fell in inky rivers down her back and she flicked some stray strands from her eyes in annoyance as she continued her appraisal. Her black boots were perhaps of too a fine make for her to fit in with the rabble of this clump of dust and rusted metal, and maybe the fabric of her clothing would stick out like a Star Destroyer above Coruscant…but she was not willing to exchange comfort and quality for anonymity. Not here, and not now. Besides. She had arrived on a Royal Command Shuttle with an escort of Starfighters. She wouldn’t be fitting in regardless of her clothing.

Her eyes narrowed at her reflection and she glanced down at her cloak before adjusting it across her shoulders, making sure it fell straight and even. Having it hang of her shoulders at an obscure angle was one way to take away from her image. It was black but upon closer inspection there were patterns subtly woven into the material and as she turned her body they caught the light and played with it. She considered a moment praising Jesskra for her sewing prowess, for she doubted the Clone-troopers would be able to sew, but decided against it. She had demanded appropriate clothing and Jesskra had delivered, as was fitting.

Still, it was a lovely fit. She just might have to keep it, or order her to make her something else with the same fabric.

There was a hiss as the seals around the door loosened and then a groan of machinery as the door lifted and she got her first glance at the planet outside.

D’rangr was a minor planet in the Rao System of the Mid Rim. The Rao system was still called such even though the Planet Krypton, and the majority of its inhabitants that worshiped it, had been blown up not a decade ago. The planet of Daxam was the largest and most powerful in the system now, and the Empire had a strong presence there, but did not rule it. Queen Rhea had been content to abide by the Empire’s laws with only minor taxation. The country had a strong slave trade with various outlets of the Empire and in exchange for a light fee, was left to rule her people how she saw fit.

As she strode down the ramp and to the rusted platform that constituted a loading bay Lena thought of the economic sources for the planet. It was barren of most life, and the people that endured here were hardy and strong. Like most of the smaller planets in this system it was a mostly barren wasteland but served as a port for those to and from Daxam, and once Krypton. Its main source of income was its fighting pits, and its hunting grounds where the brave, or stupid, liked to test their skills against the planets native beasts.

There was also a strong presence of Black Market Trade; Intel told them that items were easy to move across the Rao System now that the Kryptonian Empire was gone as Queen Rhea didn’t care about the trade, unlike her deceased rivals. Everything that came and went from the Rao System would come through this port- thus clearing Daxam of any wrongdoing or illegal activity, but being only a planet away for the resources. Plus there was a minor shipyard on planet. It was nothing special, and mostly served the local planets and the civilian ships, but it was stable enough to draw a steady custom from the System. Thus the presence of an Imperial transport shuttle would garner a second glance, but hopefully not too much of one.

There were a dozen and a half ships nearby and she gave them a cursory glance as she passed them, the squadron of Clone-troopers falling in to step behind her. Most of them were local ships, cargo or transport vessels, but there was one that stood out from the rest. A Daxamite fighter. It was sleek with visible weaponry and even had two guards stationed outside it.

Making a note of the presence of a wealthy Daxamite, for those ships weren’t easy to come by, she continued into the city. It was spread out like an arc, with businesses on both sides and joining in the middle where the cantina stood. As they walked she noted the eyes on them but paid them no mind and walked straight up to the door.

There were two hairy beasts likely twice the size of her as she approached and she knew her Clone-trooper guard were going to keep an eye on the two Wookie’s.

She didn’t bother to meet their eyes, instead entering the tavern as though she did so every day, as she did she heard her Clone-trooper commander ask if there were any other way in or out of the tavern. They would ensure the doors were covered while also giving her a moment to see if her presence had been noticed. It hadn’t and as she eyed a few patrons she strode confidently over to the bar.

It was crowded and dirty and smelt like a cantina should, if only that weren’t the case she thought and hid her ire. There were all sorts of patrons aliens and humans alike and she cast them a glance as she sat on the bar stool. A few aliens in groups and a large group of rowdy humans who looked as though they were on their way to getting drunk. She rolled her eyes at them and looked at the other corner of the room, noting a small game of pazak and likely some gambling going on. A couple of them had companions, scantily clad, on their laps and they looked very unhappy with their situation. Lena ignored the slaves and rapped her knuckles on the bar. The Empire had official policies about slavery but could not enforce their laws everywhere, and slavers would only be more subtle about it. The slaves in the company of the guests appeared to be in relative health, well fed and with no visible injuries, so Lena let them be.

There were three staff behind the bar, and she could see another two or three in the kitchen next to a set of stairs and figured there were beds and the like in the rooms above them.

The bar-keep closest to her was a Bitthævrian, it was shorter than usual with dark red skin. The quills on its forearms were partially broken and Lena suspected its knee-quills were in a similar state, and as it turned around she saw it had a large cut across its face. Putting aside her questions on why one was so far from home, she considered their limited range of drinks.

“Vaglar venom,” she requested and it acknowledged her with a grunt and bent under the bar.

“Eleven and a sixth,” it replied as it stood and was holding a frosted bottled with a cap on it. Lena paused as she dug in her robes for her money.

“Eleven and a sixth?” She replied, letting her disbelief leak into her voice. The price of a bottle of Vaglar venom back home would have been half that and she wasn’t interested in being cheated.

The Bitthævrian exposed its teeth more and its grip tightened on the bottle. “Got a problem with that? Take it or leave it, Princess.”

Lena met its gaze squarely. Usually she was treated with respect; fear and awe combined, but whenever she went to the Mid and outer rims, and was incognito, she was treated just like everyone else. She did like that about these backwards planets, even if it was at times trying. Eventually she gave a little shrug and dug out a ten and one value credits, and three point two decicredits and slid them across the bar. Her server grunted and left the bottle, taking the credits and dropping them into a pouch at its waist.

Lena took the bottle and cracked it open and let the air from inside curl like a wisp into the room before taking a sip. It was one of her favourite drinks and she sighed as the surprisingly cool liquid slid its way down her throat. It was sweet and bubbly. Her server returned with her change, two point-two decicredits and she swiped them up and into her robes. She didn’t need to worry about her credit pouch for such small amounts, any of her pockets would do. Besides, she almost wanted someone to try and steal them. Any thief wouldn’t know what would have hit them.

“I’m looking for someone,” she mentioned to the bar-keep as it looked like it would go else-where.

It gave a little grunt in response and grabbed a very dirty cloth and started to wipe down the bar.

“A smuggler-merchant.” She could see by the way its body tensed that she had its attention.

“Don’t know anyone,” it said and rubbed a persistent speck of grime on the bar. “I see a smuggler I turn ‘em in. I’m good like that. Law abiding citizen.”

Lena took a calculated sip of her drink and glanced around the bar before leaning in a little closer and speaking softly. She had no doubt that any and every ship that came to this planet eventually came through this waystation. A source of food, alcohol, entertainment in the forms of games, betting, and even paid companionship, as well as a bed, it would see at least one person from every ship and its staff would know everything about the planet and who visited it.

“His name is D’vo Hegvlar.”

The bar-tender stiffened and Lena casually rolled the bottle top between her fingers. “You don’t know where I might find him, do you?”

“Never heard of him.”

Lena nodded slowly. “That’s odd because his first mate is sitting over there playing cards at table four.”

Black eyes darted over to the corner where the card-game was being held and then back to her.

“So I might have heard of him,” her bar-keep said and had given up pretences of wiping down the bar. “Doesn’t mean I know nothing.”

Lena gave it a moment’s thought and was about to respond when there was a disturbance behind her. Curious she picked up her drink and turned around.

One of the humans in a dirty uniform of the Daxam military was pulling the arm of a lavender skinned Twi’lek while another human held her other arm. They were obviously fighting over who was going to get her and the bar-tender behind her gave a little growl.

It emerged from behind the bar and thumped over to the feuding humans, tall presence looming over them. Both of the humans weren’t happy to see a third party and instantly started to protest who had rights to her.

The girl looked young for a Twi’lek and her head was lowered even as her body was pulled from side to side by the humans that wanted to buy her.

From what Lena could gather by listening in the Daxamite wanted the slave for his master, a wealthy man called Mon El, and the man at the table had already purchased her for the evening and was refusing a refund by the cantina.

The argument didn’t even halt as a few of her soldiers entered the bar and started to look around. Lena noted that D’vo Hegvlar’s first mate saw them almost immediately and discreetly made his way to the back of the building. Lena let him go. She knew her soldiers would be waiting for him at the exit. He was also accompanied by one other, but she would be able to question him later.

“But I paid for her!” One of the humans was whiney, a large bellied man with no hair on his head and it all clinging to his face. “Four hundred credits!”

For a Class One slave it was a painfully cheap price, but judging by her collar with the cantina’s logo on it, she was owned by the establishment and could be hired out to guests.

“My Master wants her,” said the Daxamite in a tone that conveyed just how little he thought of the opinion of the other man. “He wants her now.”

The Bitthævrian was clearly at the end of its patience, slashing its hands through the air.

“The Daxamite gets her,” it snarled and hauled the man from out of his bench by the shirt. The noise inside dimmed a moment in curiosity before going back to full swing. Such things were obviously custom here and it was nothing of note. Not even the eight Clone-troopers looking around were anything to draw the patron’s attention from their leisure times. “You can take the refund or leave it.”

Her captain stood next to her and gave a little nod. “Ambassador. There is no sign of the smuggler, but we have his first mate and one other in custody. Orders?”

“Return to the ship. I’ll be there shortly,” Lena commented and sipped her drink. The captain nodded and proceeded to walk from the cantina, the other soldiers falling into line at his command as Lena sipped at her drink. She was nearly done, and she wanted to see what the fat man would do. He had drawn his blaster, and so had two of his companions, but the Bitthævrian didn’t seem fazed, and there were more Daxamite’s in armor approaching. A full on fight appeared to be on the horizon and Lena was looking forward to it. Few things were as exciting as a brawl, passion at its highest.

The Twi’lek glanced up briefly and her eyes, for some reason, seemed to land on Lena and she paused with her drink part-way to her lips. The Twi’lek’s eyes were a pale purple, lighter than her skin tone, but striking and there was something in her eyes that unsettled Lena. She held her gaze for only a few moments and then looked down, resigned to her fate. Shifting on the stool Lena finished her drink and set the bottle down behind her and slid off the stool.

She was undecided as she walked towards the exit and certainly hadn’t planned on approaching the trio fighting over the slave.

They watched her approach with wary curiosity and she eyed them critically. Of the humans only the Daxamite’s would possess any threat to her, and she doubted they had her training in a fight, and even if they drew their blaster pistols she would be able to catch the bolts in mid-air. The Bitthævrian was her main concern.

She could draw her blade and kill them all; patrons, serving staff, and the trio of morons in front of her but… that would draw attention to her presence here and she was trying to maintain a low profile. The Jedi Order had only recently learnt that there was a Sith presence in the senate, and she needed to keep them guessing as to who it was. So far they only thought the Sith were a Senator, or even a military general, they didn’t know that Lex Luthor was Darth Thorul, and they certainly didn’t know about his sister being one. Slaughtering the entire room would draw needless attention to herself, because she would have to kill them all. No witnesses could be allowed. But by doing that she would let the rebellion know a Sith was in the area, and they might get to the smuggler first. So diplomacy it was.

“I’ll take her,” she said calmly and looked up into the Bitthævrian’s eyes. It blinked at her in surprise while the Twi’lek glanced up in shock. “Whether I take her or buy her is up to you,” she added and clasped her hands behind her as she waited.

“Now wait a minute!” The fat man began and Lena turned her eyes on him and he instantly released the slave, backing away and lifting his hands when faced with the full power of her glare.

She could feel her power rousing to attention, curling inside her and asking to be let out but she restrained. For the moment. Instead she turned and looked at the other human and he gulped and loosened his hold but did not let go. And for a moment she was impressed. Most people didn’t stand up to her when she went cold and unfeeling. Jesskra said it was terrifying, as though the darkness inside her was shining from her eyes and ravenous for the light of life. Lex like to laugh it off and tell her people were fools, but she should use it to her advantage.

“My-my master,” the Daxamite splutter weakly and Lena slowly cocked her head in a well-practiced move. The Daxamite released the girl and backed away, probably able to feel the air growing heavy and thick around her. “I’ll tell him she was unavailable,” he said and stumbled back against his companions, all who looked like they wanted to challenge the small well-dressed woman but not daring to. It was obvious she was used to control and authority and they didn’t dare challenge her. Slaves were like that.

“And you?” Lena asked turning back to the Bitthævrian. It met her eyes for a moment and ducked its head in acknowledgement and she felt herself relax slightly at its submission. The darkness in her grumpily protested but settled.

“This way.”

She followed it to the back as it tugged on the chain belonging to the Twi’lek. There was a dimply lit room with a Wookie guard standing near-by and it watched the three of them as they entered.

“Master,” the Bitthævrian said, not hiding the loathing to the word. “Business.” The chain glinted in the light as the girl was dragged in and Lena followed, discretely checking the doors and picking out the occupants immediately.

The room was lavish and decorated with cloths and carpets and fine furniture and there was a large bed in the middle. A young man had two Twi’lek’s with him on the bed, their chains haphazardly strewn on the bed and as he sat up he didn’t both to conceal his nakedness from his guests. Instead his eyes roamed over her form in open appreciation.

“She wishes to buy Slave seven-three.”

Lena cast a glance at the Bitthævrian and then at the Twi’lek who was staring at the other two and Lena figured they were communicating by the way their head-tails were moving. At least her slaves had permission to name themselves, not that she had many. Only Jesskra. The other slaves she came into contact with were owned by the Empire or other wealthy people.

“Not for sale,” the man said smugly and reached around for one of the slave chains and pulled the slave forward. When she was over him he directed her head where he wanted it.

Lena blinked slowly.

“I wasn’t asking,” she said calmly and resolved to go through with this. Whatever ‘this’ was. She wasn’t really sure what she was doing, only that she had made a statement and now would go through with it, even though she wasn’t sure why she was taking the slave in the first place. It was not her business and she had no need for a slave. Jesskra saw to her needs.

“I could be-“ the man hesitated, eyes falling closed before he opened them again, hand resting lightly on the head-tail of the Twi’lek pleasing him. “Persuaded to sell her to you,” he finished, tone lifting and the look in his eyes were obvious. “Come join me,” he offered and Lena suspected he thought he were charming or something of the sort.

“No,” she said blankly. “I will buy her or take her. Pick.”

Ire flashed in his eyes and he turned to the Bitthævrian. “Bring her to me.”

Lena turned and looked at the warrior and lifted a brow. “How does he keep you in line?”

The Bitthævrian hesitated, glanced to its master and then back to her. “Chip,” it answered and slowly advanced on her.

Lena felt around for the chip with her mind as the slave advanced on her. It was at the base of its neck, sunk into its skin and had a light on it. Lena deactivated it with a thought and summoned it to her outstretched hand. The Bitthævrian gave a startled grunt of pain and stumbled before lifting it hand to its neck. It came away damp with blood and then dark eyes locked on to the chip in Lena’s hand. Lena dropped it and then turned back to the slave owner.

His eyes were wide and his features were contorting with rage and Lena lifted her other hand.

He was thrown backward as though a giant had picked him up and thrown him against the wall. He squirmed there, lifting his hands to his neck and straining against the invisible hold around his neck.

His two bed companions scrambled off the bed and pressed against the wall, keeping sheets over their bodies.

The slaver gasped and gagged and his features slowly turned red, the cords in his necks straining. His eyes were bulging and straining and his feet week kicking at the wall.

It drew the attention of the Wookie and it gave a low groan as it entered and Lena, sensing no move to attack, ignored it.

The four slaves in the room did nothing as Lena choked the life out of their master and only watched as he finally went still, drool dripping from his mouth, and Lena released him. His naked body dropped to the floor and remained there.

Lena slowly lowered her arm, feeling powerful and took a steadying breath. The darkness simmered and slowly settled and she felt the comfort of the Force around her and moving through her, bowing to her will.

Lena glanced around her a moment before nodding to herself and turning, she was at the door when the purple-skinned Twi’lek she had planned on purchasing spoke with soft awe and little fear, “Who are you?”

Lena barely paused as she passed through the door. She had already spent too much time on this planet, and the more she delayed the further away from her that her prize could escape, and take his prize with him.

“Justice.”


End file.
